Is it this:
"'Tis a wee mouse, hungry and cold, stopping for a rest on the frigid lake. Someone please give him some cheese!"

or this:

"Welcome to the newest tech for controlling the natural elements.
All lakes will now come with their own mouse so you too can control the effects. Now, have just the right amount of ice, chop, silky smooth and color for your lakeside landscape photographs!"

You're like a memory.
A feel-good, life-was-never-better moment...
That lasted a day, a week, a lifetime.
Only here. And now.
You're like an imaginary past, blended to perfection with dreamed-about future.

Crinkley, green-blue, almost other-wordly gorgeousness.
Lake Tahoe is just kinda All That.
A mile down in the deep parts... and brrr-cold most of the time!
Still, it's a mountain paradise that's second-to-none.

One day, I passed through a part of the Sierras where mountain man, trapper, frontiersman and explorer Kit Carson once roamed.

Old Kit Carson took part in so many large, historical Wild West events in California, Oregon and the Great Basin area that he had a veritable library of dime novels and tall tales written about him.

He even made general without being able to read or write! He could sign his name though.

Totally leads the Who's Who pack of Awesome Dudes of the Old West. Imagine a virtual hangout with HIM!

What does all this have to do with Red Lake? Well, Kit Carson probably went there. I don't know that for a fact, but based upon the signs I saw along the road and what I know about this part of the mountains... I'd pretty much bet on it.

I also think Kit Carson was a smart man.
So I'd bet he didn't name this lake.
Being that, ummm... it's green and all.

Just a few of the thoughts I pondered as I snapped this postcardy overview.

My voice manager sends out these wonderful email "inspirations" every day. I just love them.

One opened itself up for no reason the other day from months ago. And this is what it said:

"The universe makes no mistakes in its ongoing expansion.

Each of us is born to be different; to have a unique life experience whether for a second or for 100 years.

Some sing out loud on the train, some stay silent in a meeting, some will have 5 marriages in their lifetime.

Some will be convinced that their faith is the only one, teach children to dance, raise millions for charity, be always late for work,
struggle with rules, chew gum continuously, be unsinkingly positive, always beat you at golf …

The list of differences is infinite.
If all you do today is practice allowing others their freedom of expression as a human being, your contribution to the ‘happiness scale’ of the universe will create a ripple effect that will last for eternity.

And when it came alive again - an email popped up, sent by a friend months before with a quote from an unknown author.
Strange. It read:

"The universe makes no mistakes in its ongoing expansion.

Each of us is born to be different; to have a unique life experience whether for a second or for 100 years.

Some sing out loud on the train, some stay silent in a meeting, some will have 5 marriages in their lifetime.

Some will be convinced that their faith is the only one, teach children to dance, raise millions for charity, be always late for work,
struggle with rules, chew gum continuously, be unsinkingly positive, always beat you at golf …

The list of differences is infinite.
If all you do today is practice allowing others their freedom of expression as a human being, your contribution to the ‘happiness scale’ of the universe will create a ripple effect that will last for eternity.

Respect & allowing.
It's really that powerful."

I didn't write that, but I wish I did.
It's something my mother would have said.
And I believe it with all my heart.

It crept in the morning, the fateful finger of fog.
Breathing upon, touching, altering all in its path.
Was it frightening or enlightening?
None could ever say.
For it wakening and stirred that which
Each dwelled upon the most.

She gave me a long look, that while enigmatic, was also loving and kind.
When she finally spoke, it was deliberately, quietly; but with a power that made the air hum, weaving itself into a moment of only us, apart from time.

"It's all right there in front of you. Look.
Where your eyes see form, structure, depth and balance...
Your heart will understand truth, wisdom, discernment.
Then listen carefully. For in that moment you will Know... and you will be free."

She took a breath. The air waited expectantly.

"As above, so below... as within, so without, top to bottom, side to side, corner to corner, all around. So be it. Now."

She opened her eyes and smiled.
Then slowly faded... and disappeared.
It took me years to understand what she meant.

Late in they day on water's edge, with a lazy breath of smoke wafting in the air... Emerald Bay in Lake Tahoe, CA really looked to me like how I imagine the Elves' homeland Lotholian from Tolkien's Lord of The Rings.

I half-expected to see the elegant, curved bow of an elven boat carrying Galadriel and Celeborn to peek out from behind that jut of land before me as it headed for open water.

"Wait for me!" I'd call out. And I'd wave.
They would see me, wave back and smile... and gracefully steer the boat to the shore where I stood, the soundless gangplank extended in welcome.

As I step on board the magical vessel, I'd feel a shiver of delight, of adventure and of coming home.

But alas, this only happened in my mind. (adventurous mind that it is!)

Still, this moment captured from mere weeks ago starts the movie all over again.

She smiled, even as tears streaked her face.
She could hear the sunset colors singing softly in her head... soothing. Bathing her in warmth and comfort.
She drew a deep breath.
Endings and new beginnings. Quite a tag team.
The brilliant performance they gave in the heavens said it all.
And the light prevailed. Once again.

My first visit there. I love that feeling of the first time... your heart quickens, your eyes get all sharp and darty at the new sights, even my stomach jumps around a little at the excitement of NEW.

I'm big on the story too - and I love hearing them about the places I visit. Convict Lake was named after an incident in 1871, where a group 'o thugs, er, 'convicts' escaped from prison in Carson City. That's 200 miles away. So a buncha lawmen, er, a 'posse' chased those buggers all the way down here, where they had a shootout. The sheriff was killed, as was his Indian guide. They named the lake after the convicts, the mountain (Mt. Morrison) after the sheriff. Nobody named anything after the Indian guide, which strikes me as just pure ungrateful.

It was a moody, weathery day... kinda fitin' with the story that goes with it. But I just went with the vibe and took this photograph to remember it all by.